


Crashing.

by nektrh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Dark Academia, Dark War, Death, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, F/M, Fanfic, Old Friends, Physco Draco Malfoy, Romance, Sad, Slight Sub/Dom, Smutty, Tragedy, racy, rape/noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nektrh/pseuds/nektrh
Summary: "𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖙𝖞. 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖒𝖊. 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉, 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊, 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘, 𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉𝖞."𝚅𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢. 𝙰𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝙷𝚘𝚐𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚢, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚅𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍- 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚅𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚢- 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐ned to find a rune stone that will confirm their power. But when he finds it in the very person that could put out the fire that crippled his heart so badly... will his lover burn in agony, or overcome his arson of flaws?
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Draco Malfoy & Faeler Montcroix, Edward Tonks/Faeler Montcroix, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Hemrione Granger & Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks





	Crashing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello childen, sorry for the short chapter <3  
> I promise this is gonna get spicy, I;m woriKING on the character development All the characters belong to J.K Rowling except Fae Montcroix. Lots of love to my best friend, and to everyone of you guys who reads my stories, it means so much to me. Please message me on my wattpad account, (same username), if you have any advice. I have the same story there if it helps in your convenience of reading.   
> \- lots of morbid love, nektrh.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the hedge of a stained glass window, he watched as the caramel-skinned woman embedded into the glass let a raindrop roll down her cheek, resembling the utmost melancholy tear. It didn't occur to him that Voldemort was gazing at him through his glistening orbs in which darkness raced through. His attire was crisp, black, and reflected a sense of regal mien. The room in which he stood was mammoth, gargoyles of stone towered over the marble floor, and ornate seats of worn-out silver and glittering emeralds that studded them were scattered upon the room. In the middle, a great black throne. Vines coiled at the sides of it, their thorns studded with a dangerously beautiful diamond, that almost showed the terrors that occurred in this room through its jagged points.

He gave out a great sigh, averting his eyes to his cold, pale hands from the window. The edge of his dark mark peered from under his clothing, like a constant reminder of his horrific past, and cruel future. 

"That woman was killed, slowly and painfully Draco. One of my greater accomplishments...I would say." A high pitched voice that quivered with danger spoke out, echoing through the large room. 

Draco looked up, peering at the black throne Voldemort sat upon. His manner was weak, but his eyes spelled danger. Draco gazed near where Voldemort sat for a few moments, contemplating whether to fuel his pretentious ways or to stay silent. He ran his hand through his platinum blonde hair unconsciously, a silvery gaze set upon Voldemort. 

"Indeed, my Lord. You wanted to see me?" Draco responded carefully, choosing his words with great thought. 

"I sense you are in a great hurry... is there something on your mind, Draco?" Voldemort asked, tilting his head knowingly. 

Draco knew, through many hours of torture he had suffered, not to hide things from The Dark Lord. He despised it- of course. He longed for control. He longed to reign over himself and the ones that doubted his power. He was thirsty for revenge, power, thirsty to spread darkness that was caged inside his thoughts, and his heart. He had turned cold, after the war. Cruel-- heartless, even. He had murdered hundreds, tortured thousands, and extracted power that Voldemort himself found hard to obtain. Often, he wanted to murder the founder of his heartlessness, but with great effort- controlled himself, for the sake of more power. 

"Perhaps, the ministry seems to be cooperating quite easily, with us. It is in my suspicions that, they may be following my trail-- our work. Our goal." Draco said grimly.

"It is right of you to pay attention to these things, my boy. But-- rest assured, we have our devotees implanted in the hierarchy of power. Potter and his blood traitors may have won the battle, but the war has only just begun." Voldemort said, a slight satisfaction flashing in the way he spoke. He turned his head to look Draco directly in the eyes and stared for a few moments. Draco could feel him slicing through his thoughts, his memories. Voldemort was a highly skilled Legillemens, but his manner of accessing one's thoughts was cruel-- as expected. Draco felt as if a knife was running through his mind, cold and sharp, tearing apart anything in the way. 

Voldemort slid out his grasp of Draco's mind and continued, satisfied with what he found. "I have obtained what I required from you, you may leave." 

Draco nodded curtly and bent his neck forward, suggesting a bow, but not quite. Voldemort-- in turn, shook his head lightly as if acknowledging him before Draco turned away. Draco walked out of the room, the sound of his footsteps floating like an imposter in a sea of drowning silence. He could feel Voldemort's cold eyes on his back, watching him. He would be powerful, more powerful than Voldemort. He would grasp what he wanted. Voldemort was nothing but dirt beneath his feet, he was just a pawn. Draco took another deep breath to calm his angry thoughts but failing to control them as he swung his arm across a decorative table, most likely an invaluable antique. Glass and rubies shattered across the floor, some sinking into Dracos skin. He grunted lightly as he pulled the jewels out violently from his skin. The pain was not a factor for him-- he did not feel it. And he questioned whether he felt other emotions as well. 

A freshly wounded House Elf appeared with a crack, tears filling her eyes from the sight, Draco was known for his dangerous temper. He had killed many over small casualties. 

"B-Bimsy w-will clean. M-master D-Draco." She quivered with every word. 

Draco looked at her condescendingly, and scoffed in disgust, almost trampling her over as he walked ahead. He let his neck down, peering at his wristwatch and almost forgetting to check the time as he watched the little arms tick faintly at each number. His eyes roamed for a few moments more, before finally looking at the time. He had to be at Kings Cross Station by 11:30, he pondered upon his means of travel, and finally decided to apparate to the Manor to get his trunks, and then to Platform 9 3/4. 

Draco ran his hands through his silky hair again, staring out at the rain that thundered against the ground, the drizzling from before had turned into a storm. He stuck his hand out, and raindrops collected over his pale skin. Soon enough, his fingers had grown a slight blue tint to them. He longed for the feeling of rain over his skin, but for some reason, it was arduous to feel anything. Let alone the drops of summer rain that showered over London. Draco apparated with a faint crack, and he found himself in the Malfoy Manor soon after. 

He walked to his grand room, a large four-poster with an ornate headboard of emeralds and gold and green velvet that draped over the linings of his bed sat in the center. His study, which was covered in notes and old pictures of him he always reminded himself to have his House Elf, Tipsy, throw away-- But never did. He walked over to his window seat, pouring a steaming cup of earl grey tea with three spoons of honey for himself, and sipping in a hurried fashion. 

The tea gave him a slight sense of warmth as he got ahold of his many trunks, apparating away without bothering to say goodbye to his mother, who was now looking for her beloved son. He would have tried to give her some form of endearment-- perhaps even love, but you cannot give what you never had.


End file.
